


your son (will become what you are)

by elisela



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Christopher Diaz is a National Treasure, Established Relationship, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Married Life, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:54:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23826415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisela/pseuds/elisela
Summary: Eddie steps in front of him, pulling his gloves off and leaning at just the right angle to block the sun. “Well, what’d your son do now?”“Oh, please,” Buck scoffs. “He hits someone so now he’s my son? Sure, Diaz. You know, they have a saying about the apple and the tree and all that.”
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz
Comments: 32
Kudos: 743





	your son (will become what you are)

**Author's Note:**

> [Chris Week](https://chrisdiazweek.tumblr.com) day 5: Chris and his Idiot Dads.
> 
> This is more idiot dads than Chris.
> 
> Whoops.
> 
> Thank you to the buddy discord, especially aone and charlie for helping me come up with some of these situations.

Eddie sees red.

Literally.

From his maroon slacks to his bright red cheeks, Buck stands in front of him, adorned in various shades and textures of the color. He is so obviously dreading leaving the bedroom that Eddie can’t help but laugh. Not loudly—he doesn’t want Chris, who is no doubt hovering at the end of the hall, to hear—but his shoulders shake with the strain of holding it in, and he finally has to collapse onto the bed, resting his elbows on his knees while he gains control of himself.

“You’re the one who has to be seen with me,” Buck grumbles, and Eddie is so overwhelmed with love for him and what he’s willing to do for Chris that he finds it difficult to catch his breath.

Well, because of that and the laughter.

“Chris really went all out,” he manages to say, then snorts again, reaching out to rub the crushed velvet of Buck’s jacket. “The sequins are a nice touch,” he adds, his voice breaking as he helplessly gestures to the—admittedly well-fitting—button down shirt.

“Your son hates me,” Buck says seriously. “I mean really, Eddie. _Look_ at me.”

“I think you look great,” Eddie tries. He’s pretty sure the tears in his eyes give him away. He knows this has to be uncomfortable for Buck, who takes pride in how he looks, who likes being gazed at and admired—especially by Eddie—to be in an outfit so hideously clashing that only a child would enjoy it.

Yet Buck would wear it, because Christopher had picked it out.

Eddie takes the sight in one more time, then stands up and opens his nightstand drawer. “Close your eyes, Buck, you can’t be complicit in this.”

“There’s literally no way to make this worse, Eddie,” Buck says, but he closes his eyes anyway. “I don’t know what you have in there, but it’s not going to help anything.”

“Oh, I think it will,” Eddie says, picking up the jar of shoe polish and turning it over in his hands. His son might be upset, but Eddie can spare Buck the embarrassment of leaving the house like this, with his promise to let Christopher dress him for their date intact. He grabs the rag that goes with the kit, dips it in the polish and reaches out, stamping it straight onto Buck’s chest. “So clumsy,” he says, trailing the rag down towards Buck’s abdomen. “I should really watch where I’m going.”

Buck’s eyes fly open and when he looks down, he lets out a sigh of relief, his hand catching Eddie’s wrist in the air and pulling him closer. “You’re the greatest,” he says, his thumb rubbing over Eddie’s pulse point. “Guess I need a new shirt.”

“Guess you do,” Eddie says. “I’d suggest hiding the ones you don’t want to wear before you ask Chris to help you pick out a new one.” He kisses Buck softly before pulling away and tossing the shoe polish and dirty rag back into the drawer. Buck is already disappearing into the closet when Eddie calls back out to him. “For the record, I’m proud to be seen with you no matter what you’re wearing.”

He doesn’t have to see his husband to know he’s blushing. 

* * *

“I didn’t mean to!” Chris calls out as soon as he steps into the house, Papa right behind him. “It was an accident!”

Papa makes a funny sound behind him, almost like he’s trying not to laugh. It pleases Chris; Papa had made his stern _I’m being serious_ face while Mr. Hernandez was talking to him in the classroom, but Chris had seen him smiling in the mirror on the ride home anyway. He thinks if Papa is laughing, he’s probably not going to get into _too_ much trouble. 

Dad appears in the kitchen doorway, holding a casserole dish, and Chris groans. Maybe he can point out that having to eat anything Dad makes is punishment enough, so he really doesn’t deserve to be grounded, or to have game night taken away. “What was an accident?” he says, looking at Chris suspiciously before he looks up at Papa. 

Chris lets Papa move around him and waits patiently while they greet each other, gagging when the forehead leaning turns into kissing. At this rate it won’t matter what Dad made, he’s lost his appetite. None of his friends have parents who are so gross. Not that it had mattered when he told them that—Papa had laughed and Dad looked _happy_. 

“Shut it,” Dad says, and kisses Papa again before he fixes Chris with a look. “What’d you do?”

Chris opens his eyes as wide as he can and shrugs. 

“Your son,” Papa says, kissing Dad again, “set the class lizard free.”

“On _accident_ ,” Chris protests. 

Dad frowns. “I thought one of the rules was that students don’t touch the cage?” He raises an eyebrow at Chris. “How did you accidentally manage that?”

Chris shrugs.

Dad sighs. “We’re not going to have to buy a new lizard, are we?”

“No, we found Colonel Lollipop,” Chris says. “He was hiding in Marysa’s desk.” He eyes the pan Dad is holding, trying to figure out if it looks edible or if he could fake being tired and just eat the snacks hidden in his room. With Papa working overtime lately and being too tired to cook, Dad’s been experimenting and frankly, Chris doesn’t think it’s gone well. He’s not supposed to have food in his room, but he’s pretty sure this counts as a life and death situation. “Well,” he says, when it’s clear that his parents are less interested in him than in each other and again, _gross_ , “I’m gonna-”

“Sit your butt right in that chair,” Dad says, “and write an apology letter to your teacher for breaking the rules.”

Chris sighs. “I was _gonna_ say that,” he says. “I swear.”

He pulls the chair out from the table, drops his backpack, and digs around for a pencil. Dad and Papa are still talking quietly behind him, and he strains to hear in case they’re talking about a punishment. Instead, he hears Papa say, “Eds? You know I appreciate you, but if you loved us, you would throw away whatever is in that dish and just order pizza. I’m begging you.”

Well. At least that’s one punishment down.

* * *

“Sorry,” Buck says, jamming his phone in-between his ear and shoulder as he hoists the medical kit up, “can you just repeat that? Because I swear you just told me that Christopher hit someone and I don’t know if you can possibly mean my son.” Eddie looks over at him, frowning, and Buck waves him off, pointing at the person Eddie is supposed to be bandaging up.

The assistance principal chuckles a little over the phone. “It shocked us as well, Mr. Diaz, but Christopher has admitted to it. Typically we would let a first offense go, but considering he hit him twice and left a mark, we unfortunately need to give him a half-day suspension. We’ll need you or your husband to come pick him up.”

Buck sighs and stows the kit in the ambulance. “We’re both out on a call right now but one of us will be there as soon as we can. Thank you.” He hangs up, sends a quick text to both Carla and Abuela, asking if either are available to deal with the situation, and leans against the side of the rig. It’s sweltering out, and he deeply regrets begging to tag along on this call despite it being a medical alert only. He’d only worn Bobby down by pointing out that Chim and Hen had been on five back to back calls and he’d had nothing to do all day, and it was just an elderly woman who had fallen—what was the harm in sending him with Eddie? 

Eddie steps in front of him, pulling his gloves off and leaning at just the right angle to block the sun. “Well, what’d your son do now?”

“Oh, please,” Buck scoffs. “He hits someone so now he’s my son? Sure, Diaz. You know, they have a saying about the apple and the tree and all that.” 

Eddie’s smile is blinding. “He’s always your son, _Diaz_ ,” he responds, clapping his hand down on Buck’s shoulder and squeezing. “Besides, we agreed you’d do the school things, this counts, right? So what happened?”

Buck has a very different idea of what this counts as, but he shrugs. “Hit someone who was making fun of a girl. Try not to look _too_ pleased,” he adds when it’s clear that Eddie is not the least bit concerned about it. “At least when he’s around.”

“I’m not gonna pretend I don’t like my kid sticking up for others,” Eddie says. “I know, Buck, we’ll talk to him about not doing it with his fists. But they’re teenagers, you know?”

Buck sighs and pushes off the rig. “Let’s get back to the station. I texted Abuela and Carla to see if either of them could pick him up, but we might have to see if Bobby could let either of us go early.”

“We could ask if we could pick him up now,” Eddie suggests, reaching for his radio. “He’d get a kick out of that.”

“He’s _suspended_ , Eddie,” Buck says, and wonders when in the hell he became the more uptight parent. “We shouldn’t be rewarding him!”

* * *

Eddie’s having a difficult time keeping his emotions in check. He doesn’t know how Buck is sitting so calmly next to him, book in hand, when their lives are changing just down the hallway. Eddie’s shaking out of his skin so much that he can’t even take a moment to appreciate how good his husband looks in his new reading glasses. He feels Buck’s free hand land on his thigh and squeeze tight.

“Deep breath, Eddie,” Buck says. “You don’t need to pass out and steal the show.”

He thinks he laughs. He tries, at least. “We can’t do this,” he says instead. His heart is about to burst right out of his chest.

Buck laughs, finally puts his book down and takes Eddie’s hand in his. “I hate to break it to you, but this isn’t something you have a say in. Or a choice, really. The baby is coming whether you’re ready for it or not, grandpa.”

“What if Chris isn’t ready?” Eddie loves his son more than anything in the world, but he remembers how terrified he felt the night Chris was born, and it amazes him that he feels this way again nearly twenty-six years later. 

“Then he’ll figure it out just like you did,” Buck says. “You raised an amazing kid who grew up to be a great man, and you’ll still be there for him if he needs you, he knows that.”

Eddie squeezes his hand. He’s not so nervous that he can’t correct Buck’s choice of phrasing. “We,” he says. “We raised him, Buck. That kid’s half of you, too.”

Buck rolls his eyes. “I’m trying to be generous and give you some credit,” he says. “Trust me, everyone knows I did all the work.”

“Asshole,” Eddie says, bumping his shoulder. His phone buzzes before he can say anything else and his fingers tremble as he swipes it open and taps on the message from Chris. “Buck,” he says, his voice shaking. 

“A _girl_ ,” Buck breathes. “Eds, we have a _granddaughter_.”

Eddie can’t reply, too busy reading the information Chris is sending. When the last text comes through, he can’t help but laugh, ignoring Buck as he snatches the phone out of his hand to read it himself. “You know what,” he says, “you’re right, that kid’s all you.”

**From: Chris**

Give us a few hours and you can come meet her.

I would kill for a pizza, though. Pepperoni? Please?

**Author's Note:**

> [prompt me on tumblr](https://hearteyesforbuck.tumblr.com/ask) or follow [hearteyesforbuck](https://hearteyesforbuck.tumblr.com/)


End file.
